Saturday, December 11, 2010

4 Years

Okay so, do you ever have those moments, those defining moments when you are pretty sure you are going to hell?? What I mean is, have you done things that you know might make your entrance into heaven (which I do believe exists in some context) a little dicey? Regardless of your beliefs you must know what I am talking about.

Most of the occurrences that I am referring to happened during my drug abuse. People do stupid sh*t when they are on drugs. Given, people do stupid sh*t all the time but I find that anything "bad" I may do now is definitely forgivable. But some stuff, when I think makes me cringe. I am not going to go into to detail naming off the horrible things I have done just so you can feel better about yourself ("at least I was never as bad as HER, at least I never contracted hep C blah blah blah, at least I never had sex for money" - you probably DID have sex for money at some point you just didn't realize it) - I am just going to tell you about one time. And it isn't even a long story but I still feel bad about. I know my stepmum will probably read this and I just want to tell her that I am sorry..but she knows what I was going through at the time so hopefully P, you will understand. You were there when it happened and you were so nice to me and I totally was sh*tty and I am sorry.

Okay, to put it bluntly.. I smoked crack in the bathroom at a Christian bookstore. There it is, that is it. I have other sorts of regrets from way back when like missing my Grandmother's funeral - that was bad. I wasn't even a prostitute then but unless I could have taken my dope dealer to the island with me there was no way I could go. I still feel sad when I think about it. Grandma, I love you and I am sorry I missed your funeral. I think she heard me.

Back on topic.

This bookstore situation occurred during a brief stint when my loving Father and Stepmother were keeping me/allowing me to stay at their house in an (unwanted by me) attempt at getting it together. Anyone that has ever been addicted to a substance knows that ANYTHING and ANYTIME is an opportunity. Now, it just so happens that my parents' house was not too far from a house that I had "lived" at for a while, when I was staying with my friend R (I have mentioned him before). I had left clothes and things there and called R and asked him if he could put my stuff in a bag and I would come to get them since I had no clothes at my parents' place. He said he would but I wasn't able to go and just pick them up from the house we had been sharing. The other guy that lived there was super paranoid and thought that my stepmother would plant microphones in his house or something so we had to find a different place to do the hand off. This guy, the paranoid one, was always like this. He honestly thought that there was bugs in his car because the gov't wanted to keep an eye on him. Him, a forty something guy with a factory job that did a paper of heroin every six months or so. As if, but besides this he was a really nice guy just very misunderstood.

Anyways, the other issue was that my stepmum would not let me see or be in the same room as R because she thought maybe he would be able to sneak me a piece, as in he might slip me something dope-ish and, well, that would be bad. But see, I was crafty and had spoken basically in code to R when I had called about my stuff and got him to put a huge rock (of crack) in the garbage bag of clothes for me. My stepmum and I drove to a neighbor's house (R had an acquaintance that was in no way dope affiliated) and we picked up the bag of clothes there. As you can well imagine I was almost pissing myself in anticipation.

Now understand this, it wasn't like I was going cold turkey at my parent's house. I mean, they were giving anything a go in order to keep me safe. I was on methadone and my Dad had bought me a certain amout of crack that was supposed to last me a week. I was allowed one ten dollar rock per night and I had to wait until he got home from work before I could get it. It was TORTURE. I mean, seriously, I am sure it would have been easier to go completely without than to have to wait all f*cking day to get ONE CRACK ROCK. Retarded, but of course this was way cool of him and he didn't have to do this. Needless to say they wised up pretty fast and stopped buying me crack since I was stealing it from them anyways and pinching money from their piggy banks, etc. But they were willing to try anything. So when the opportunity came up for me to sneak in an extra bit of dope I could not pass it up.

We went and picked up the bag of clothes. Then my stepmum decides she needs to go to the bookstore. Fine, I said, I will wait in the truck but as soon as she was out I was rifling though that bag fast as anything to find the rock. And I did find it and it was big. Man, I loved R. He always came though for me. He was a total prick and we abused each other left and right but thats what codependancy whatever.

I find the rock and couldn't even wait the 15 minutes or however long it would have been until we would have been on the way back to the house to smoke it. I had to smoke it ASAP. So I went in the bookstore and asked if I could use the bathroom (because of course, I had my pipe on me..rolled up in paper towel in my sock like I always did-duh). And I smoked it, right there, in the Christian Bookstore. I have smoked/done dope in a lot of places - even in the hospital bathroom when I went I checked myself in when I thought I was pregnant, which I was (yes, I DID - yes, I am terrible and I am sorry it happened. It was the last time I did it and this Dec 24th it will be 4 years since I last used heroin or cocaine- FYI.I am not proud of it but this blog is about truth and things like this do occur so f*ck you if you want to shake your head and judge me). And this time at the Christian bookstore, well I just hate that I did it there. Especially because my step mum is so sweet and I totally used and abused her and my father the whole time I was there. I remember that I smoked that rock so fast..the rest of it, once we got back to the house, and then just jonesed like hell until my Dad got home anyways. This is just such an ugly memory for me for some reason and it stresses me out to write about it.

Anyways, I want to wish everyone a Merry Christmas. Be safe and be happy.